Wall Street Strikes Again!

Not to do any bragging here or infer that we should hold psychic readings on the side, but I have to say (in all humility) that bartenders have what can only be called a sixth sense. About customers. And it’s there sometimes the moment someone walks in the door. Your A.S.P. will suddenly kick in (that’s Asshole Sensory Perception), and just like that the person performs on cue. Like an asshole. Or a pain. Or a bore of epic proportions you have to endure. Now it’s rare that this occurs, I should add (when this A.S.P. kicks in), as most of our customers know how to act in the main, and are valued, but the exception is always out there and ready to strike. Like he was Wednesday night. For even before I approached this guy, this guy I inherited from the day shift, my A.S.P. was thumping like a full on migraine.

The guy in question was very well dressed, standing next to an empty stool over which his jacket was draped and where his brief case sat. Like a person. So when a new customer walked in the place, a friend of mine in from Florida, I approached this guy and asked if he wouldn’t mind consolidating. Meaning… either sit in the chair or give it up so I can fit one more person along the bar. There were no other spaces

“Ohhhhhhh, I see,” he said, after my reasonable request, with enough acidic tone to etch a piece of metal. “You want me to give up my chair so your friend here can have a seat, is that what you’re asking?”

“No,” I replied politely (amazingly politely), “just trying to make a little room here, my friend, that’s all. And you and your empty chair are taking two spaces.”

“Oh, is that what me and my chair are doing?” he continued. (Remarkable, right?)

“Sir, please!” I said, “unless you’re holding that chair for someone how about giving up the space, do you mind?” And so he slid the chair over to where he stood and took a seat. But not without a menacing glare, a glare I would see later on with much more intensity.

As the evening progressed from there, while engaged in a “serious” business conversation with an associate who was only drinking Coke, this clown began to switch up his drinks all over the place. Like a kid in a pastry shop. (And believe me this “kid” was every bit of forty years old.) For having seen on his tab that he’d already had two Ketel’s and soda, when I asked if he wanted a refill he moved to Jameson. On the rocks. Then after two of those he switched to a martini. Of which he had three. I repeat three! But the bastard wasn’t getting drunk so I couldn’t really say anything.

Until finally, deciding to wind things down after his friend had long since gone, he ordered a bottle of Stella and called for his check. Now remember that menacing glare I mentioned earlier? Well here it flared up again as if shot from a laser gun. Because when I placed his check in front of him, he repeated that look and shouted, “Where’s my credit card?”

“What credit card?” I asked. “You gave us no credit card.”

“Ex-c-u-u-u-u-u-u-s-e me,” he said, “there better be a card back there or you’re in big trouble. That was a black, a black American Express card. Do you know what that means? Do you know what a big fucking deal a black American Express card is?” Then he slammed his employee ID card on the bar with his picture on it. “That’s my Morgan Stanley card, I work for Morgan Stanley,” he roared with pride.

Now if there’s one employee ID card out there that’s likely to summon less immediate respect from yours truly, or carry less moral weight, it’s one that says I’m a stock broker down on Wall Street. And take that how you will. And this guy was showing this not just as a badge of honor but a means of intimidation. Like “little old drink maker me” should be shaking in his boots.

But of course I wasn’t. And excuse me here for the language to follow but this is really what happened as I was really pissed!

“First off,” I began, “you better change your fucking tone or we’re really going to have a fucking problem, do you know what that means?”

“What tone?” he muttered, slightly taken aback.

“This accusatory tone like we did something wrong here. Like we stole your credit card. This is a respectable place, pal, we don’t do shit like that so calm the fuck down. Now let me go check again just to make sure.” So I walked over to the register where I keep all the cards to the side and no card was there. Which I then told him.

“Okay,” he said, running a diversion. “So how much is the bill? Not that I care of course, I just want to know.”

“It’s right there in front of you, it’s eighty one dollars.”

“Eighty one dollars? That’s nothing (then why the fuck did you ask?), what’s important now is I gotta find my credit card!”

“Well look through your wallet again and check,” I said. Which he did. To no avail. Then he placed his sacred ID card back in that wallet. (My first mistake.)

“Look, this is fucking serious, man,” he started to ramp up again, “I’m from Morgan Stanley and that’s a black credit card.” Then he stared that menacing glare again for emphasis. And intimidation.

“Were you anywhere else before you came here?” I asked. Totally ignoring his horseshit set of laser beams.

“Of course not,” he replied, with a look of “As if!”. “Hey, man,” he continued, “I gotta cancel that card because someone’s running around Manhattan right now with a black card!” (And now here comes my second mistake and my worst.)

He pulled out his cell phone, ran to the lobby for better reception and the moment I looked away the bastard was gone. Fucking Vamoose-o!!! And all I could think was, “Wall Street Strikes again!” With arrogance. With deception. With that same horrible sense of entitlement that’s roused those tens of thousands to picket their buildings.

And looking back now, as hindsight is always 20-20, of course I should’ve kept his ID card when he slammed it on the bar like a police badge, and of course I never should’ve let this guy hit the lobby, but who knew? Certainly not me. I’m just another dumb schmuck from the 99%!

But I will say this to the firm of Morgan Stanley… you who might not be seen in the best light anyway… you happen to have an asshole in your employ who not only has a drinking problem he’s a thief! A big thief. And that’s a 100% fact, not 99.

See you next week-end, dear reader, and don’t take any wooden nickels in the meantime like me.

What a fucken creep! The stockbroker profession definitely tends to attract low-talent high-self-regard near-sociopath personality types. And because their job is the lowest form of sales shilling, they really need a huge amount of self-confidence to perform well. Their supervisors know this, and so they stoke their egos constantly.

More than being angry at this douchebagge, I’d feel sorry for him. He will either at some point realize what a small, nasty, sad person he is, or he will die having lived a life of delusion instead of reality. Both of those alternatives suck for him.

Consider the possibility that this guy doesn’t ACTUALLY work for Morgan Stanley. Though I recognize that we aren’t talking about companies full of Mother Theresa’s here, people like the one you wrote about don’t make it so far with such an attitude. They would definitely not make it so far that they would have a black card.

More likely he was one of their myriad “consultants” with a building pass (this could be anyone including a temp, a construction worker, the window washer) who likes to play banker (and a**hole) after work.

JSaw: Funny you should say that (or wise that you should say that) because a friend of mine kind of said the same thing. But he was referring to the fact that this guy might have had a forged ID card, something you could whip up on the Internet. I had no idea that any and all, not exactly working for the firm, could get an actual card that has their picture on it.
Good point and thanks!

I’m thinking that this may not have been the first – or last – time the guy has pulled this con. Let’s hope that one of your peers catches him the next time. Or maybe let the bouncer (if there is one) stop him. I just hope the guy doesn’t “fall down the stairs” trying to get away. That would be sad.

I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that entitled asshole actually does work for Morgan Stanley. Indeed, if the powers that be at Morgan Stanley happen to read your blog, I bet he gets a major, major, promotion….hey an honest recommendation like the one you gave…”you happen to have an asshole in your employ who not only has a drinking problem he’s a thief! A big thief.”…doesn’t come by everyday, even on Wall St.
And BTW, the next time someone drops a Wall St credential at you in that manner, you should reply with, “Well then sir, you don’t need to worry about paying…we’ll just pass this on to the taxpayer like the rest of your entitled charges to this country…”.

Weird.
My friendly local bartender was telling me a decidedly downscale version of a similar scam-story last night. A guy who disappeared on two denied cards in the space of 2 weeks, same last name, different firsts. Then he shows up to try it yet again (third first name)! When confronted, he managed to weasel away.
Difference is, my FLB did keep this asshole’s ID.
His passport, in fact.

Lurker: Truth forces me to say here that all these guys aren’t bad, as I have a few close friends who work in that racket. And they’re honest. But damn, when you keep on hearing stories like the one you just told me, the one I wrote about, and the widespread damage a bunch of these pricks did to this country (almost sank it!), it tends to make one paint with a broad brush.

Chas: What I want to know is (unless I’m missing something) why wasn’t he grabbed and made to account the second time he came in? Let alone do it twice. I’m praying for my guy to walk in the door a second time!

Wow, Scrib, that guy is a piece of work. I have friends at OWS right now, risking billy clubs to engage in peaceful protest against what the douchebag companies like Morgan Stanley have done to the country, and it pisses me off to read this story. Hoping for a fairytale ending to this story!

There are about 16 versions of D-Bag terminology swimming around my skull right now, but I’m too pissed off at this supreme act of deuchebaggeryness that I can’t be clever! While reading my thought was I bet this jerk wad just got laid off by MS and is taking it out on everyone in his path. It was obvious once I reached the comments section I was a bit too trusting thinking it was that scenario :)
If OWS could deliver their message as eloquently as you Scrib they would have won their battle week one!
Closing thought: I was wondering if the holidaze were officially here yet? Your tale removed all doubt!
Cheers!

Just found your blog. Love your writing. I think I dated that guy’s father 30 years ago, and I was the stupid date waiting for him to come back from the restroom. I paid the tab. Next time, pull out your camera phone and take his picture and a picture of his ID and the picture of the drink tab, and tell him you are calling the police if he gets in a car to drive and if he doesn’t pay you are sending the pics to Uncle Guido.

scribbler50> Lurker: Truth forces me to say here that all these guys aren’t bad, as I have a few close friends who work in that racket. And they’re honest. But damn, when you keep on hearing stories like the one you just told me, the one I wrote about, and the widespread damage a bunch of these pricks did to this country (almost sank it!), it tends to make one paint with a broad brush.

I’m late to this party, and I hope that you will read this: if you know decent guys in the finance racket, why not lean on your friends and figure out who this guy is? Look, I honestly believe that this is the sort of stunt that will get this guy into hot water with his coworkers; I bet some of them are already annoyed that the story of this guy is already out there. The Wall Street crowd has its issues, but if they know a guy from their firm is stiffing bartenders at quality water holes, I’d bet money that they will do whatever’s necessary to make sure that he makes good on his tab and apologizes profusely.

Anonymous37: I appreciate your concern and I agree with your theory that if this guy were tracked down it wouldn’t look good at the firm and he’d have to make good, but it’s obviously a big outfit in a very big industry and the people I know in that racket aren’t Morgan Stanley guys. So this prick, at least at this point, is a needle in a haystack. But, hey, who knows? He may crop up again out out of memory loss, stupidity or just plain gall.
Thank you again though for your suggestion.